


Breaking the Ice (-cream)

by SpicedGold



Series: The Nara Family [10]
Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Genre: Cousins getting to know each other, Gen, Shinki's secretly a softie, more family fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-27 13:03:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19013461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicedGold/pseuds/SpicedGold
Summary: A whole day of Shinki staring at Shikadai seems like a drag, but thus far he hasn't found any sort of common ground with his cousin, and doesn't know where to start.Neither of them know much about the other, and it doesn't matter how much his mother nags him to 'make an effort', it won't mean a thing unless Shinki is open to this whole friendship-cousin-family thing anyway.





	Breaking the Ice (-cream)

**Author's Note:**

> Shinki needs more love and attention. And he and Shikadai need some interaction.

Crickets chirping would have made things more awkward, but Shikadai wouldn’t be surprised if they started anyway.

He sat opposite Shinki on the back porch, expression as flat as he could muster, cross legged and hunched and wondering how he had let himself get roped into this in the first place.

_Spend some time with Shinki_ , his mother had said. _We’ll be out all day, you two can get to know each other better._

Shikadai wouldn’t have been opposed to that, generally, except Shinki had yet to say a word, and just stared at him, as though trying to intimidate him into submission.

It was working.

“So . . .” Shikadai started, green eyes narrowed. “What do you like to do in your spare time?”

“I don’t have spare time.”

So Gaara’s inability to make small talk was transferable. Interesting. Shikadai tried again, “Okay, ever do anything for fun?”

One of Shinki’s eyebrows slid up, in a clear answer of _Not This_.

“Look,” Shikadai grumbled. “I don’t want to be here any more than you do. But I told my mom we’d ‘hang out’, and if I don’t, she’s gonna yell at me, and that’s a drag, so maybe try to co-operate?”

“Your mom does yell a lot,” Shinki said in a considering tone of voice.

“Exactly. So, if we pretend we’re getting along, I don’t get yelled at.”

“Why do we only have to pretend?”

That made Shikadai pause. “Um . . . What do you mean?”

Shinki looked at him blankly. Shikadai wished he could figure him out a bit faster, maybe he wouldn’t feel so lost in every conversation then. “We can get along. I enjoy spending time with you.”

“We’ve hung for out for like, a day, tops, and we’ve barely spoken.”

“I know. I like that. You don’t make a noise.”

Shikadai squeezed his tongue between his teeth for a moment, thinking. “So . . . you’ve been glaring at me and not saying a word, because that’s your idea of enjoying time with someone?” Now that Shikadai thought about it, that was exactly how Gaara spent time with Naruto.

Shinki nodded once.

“Oh. Okay.” Shikadai scratched the back of his neck. “Um, wanna do something? We’re alone for the whole day. It’s gonna be a long day if we just sit here staring at each other.”

“Alright,” Shinki conceded. “What do you usually do when you have a day off?”

‘Nap’ didn’t seem like a good answer. “Honestly, I’m usually with my friends. We hang out or get ice cream or something.”

“Ice cream?” Shinki questioned slowly.

“Yeah.” Shikadai leaned back on his hands. “Inojin likes the mint one, and Chocho likes chocolate.”

“I see.” Shinki paused then, looking like he was thinking hard. Finally, he spoke up again, “I’ve never had ice cream.”

“What?” Shikadai sat upright again, jaw almost dropping. “How could you not? I _know_ there’s ice cream in Suna, because I’ve had it. How could . . .?”

Shinki looked away, making a pointed study of the trees nearby. “My father doesn’t like it, so it’s never been in the house. And my team and I don’t really do that sort of thing.”

“That’s absolutely blasphemous,” Shikadai scrambled to his feet. “Get up. We’re going out.”

“Where?” Shinki was already standing up, looking suitably curious.

“We’re going to get ice cream.”

 

Shinki without his iron sand cloak looked . . . smaller, somehow. A lot less intimidating. A bit vulnerable, actually. And with his fluffy dark hair flopping around freely, he looked like a kid.

Shikadai was pleased.

He looked even more like a kid when he studied the round ball of caramel ice cream atop a wafer cone, drizzled in chocolate sauce and sprinkles, because if you’re going to have sugar you might as well go all the way. At least, that’s what Chocho always told Shikadai.

They sat in the shade of a tree on a bench, overlooking a small park. There were a few children scattered around, playing and squealing. Shikadai rested one elbow on the back of the bench, thoroughly relaxed.

It was a nice day, with the sun shining. He was watching the shadows of the tree above them, looking at them move in the gentle breeze. His mind was often on shadows, and he calculated their size, and how he could move them if he wanted to. Absently, he licked at his ice cream, attention on his shadow’s position, and his reach from where he sat.

He had almost forgotten Shinki was there, when the other boy mentioned, sounding more invested than Shikadai had ever heard, “This is very nice.”

He glanced sideways at his cousin. Shinki was smiling slightly, half way through his treat, looking entirely focused on it.

“I told you ice cream was good.”

“I might find some in Suna. Where is a suitable place?”

“My mom likes the one near the train station. Kankuro will take you, if you ask.”

“Have you been there before?”

“Yeah, couple of times.” Shikadai shrugged. “Most visits to Suna we’ve stopped there at least once. Well, since the shop opened.”

A lot of things had changed since Shikadai was younger. When he was born, there hadn’t even been a train to Suna. He remembered making the journey on foot. And there was more in Suna now – years back it had been so empty, so devoid of colour and variety.

Shinki finished his ice cream with a smile, absently licking chocolate sauce off his fingers. Satisfied, he watched the children in the park. “What else do you do for fun?”

“I sleep, mostly,” Shikadai admitted. “What do you like to do?”

Shinki’s cheeks coloured faintly red, and he mumbled something unintelligible under his breath.

“What?” Shikadai asked.

Even redder, but slightly louder, Shinki stated shakily, “I like to embroider.”

Shikadai wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but it hadn’t been that. He scrutinised his cousin for a moment, carefully considering what to say next.

Shinki peeked at him, sideways and unusually shy. “I haven’t told my friends before.”

“We’re family,” Shikadai said. “So you don’t need to be ashamed of it. Or hide it.”

“I’m not ashamed.” Shinki defended quickly.

“You’re definitely embarrassed,” Shikadai said with another shrug. “It’s okay. We all do weird things.” He fiddled with his hair for a second. “Wanna show me?”

“Hm?” Shinki looked at him fully now. “Oh, I . . . I have some of it with me. At the house.”

Shikadai stood up. “Let’s go home, then, and you can show me.”

Shinki hesitated, not rising from the bench.

“It’s okay,” Shikadai said, wondering how the roles had switched from Shinki intimidating him to the other way around. “I’m not gonna tell anyone if you don’t want. And I’m not gonna judge. But we’re meant to be getting to know each other better . . .”

Very slowly, as though considering all possible outcomes, Shinki rose to his feet, looking guarded. Shikadai hadn’t noticed before, but Shinki was shorter than him. In fact, the more time they spent together, the less stoic and closed off he seemed.

Shinki was turning into less of a mystery, and more of a boy.

For the first time, Shikadai decided he liked having a cousin.

 

They wandered back home in silence, but it wasn’t strained.

Shikadai was pleasantly surprised to find the silence between them quite comforting. The tenseness of the morning had left, and he got yet another surprise when they returned home and Shinki went almost eagerly to his little backpack, seeking things out.

Shikadai folded his hands behind his head, leaning against the wall as Shinki pulled a square of tan coloured fabric from his bag and unfolded it carefully. There was a needle, threaded with a muted green cotton string, tucked safely into the corner.

Shinki held it up, cheeks faintly coloured. “I’m making this for my father. He likes cacti.”

Shikadai focused. There were several little cacti embroidered into the fabric. They were beautifully rendered. He reached a hand out, taking the square from Shinki to examine it closer. “You did all this by hand? It looks so difficult . . .”

“I find it soothing,” Shinki admitted. “The repetition is calming, and sometimes I have trouble controlling my anger. This helps. And it feels nice to create something.”

“Plus, you get to stab things,” Shikadai added, running his fingers over the stitching. “This is really good. The detail is incredible. I wouldn’t have the patience.”

Shinki looked faintly proud. It wasn’t the usual smug indifference Shikadai was used to seeing, but something more personal; more vulnerable. He smiled slightly, too; a more genuine and far less mechanical smile.

Shinki looked away, at the floor. “I could . . . make you something . . .?”

Shikadai perked up. “Really? That’d be cool.”

“What . . . do you like?”

“Nah, surprise me.” Shikadai handed the cloth back to Shinki. “Do whatever you want.” He glanced outside. “It’s early, still. Do you wanna, maybe, go meet the deer?”

“I thought they attacked people,” Shinki sounded cautious.

“You’ll be fine if you’re with me.” Shikadai replied breezily. “Bring your stuff. We can find a nice clearing. I’ll take a nap, and you can do your sewing thing.”

“Embroidering,” Shinki corrected softly.

But he didn’t protest any further, gathering his things, and following Shikadai out of the back door.

 

The moon was the only source of light when Temari and Shikamaru returned home that evening.

Shikamaru paused, hand on the front door, ready to open it. His pause was unusual, and Temari walked into his back.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Listen.” Shikamaru motioned for her to be quiet. She crept closer to the door, leaning her ear close.

She could hear muffled voices, then a laugh. “What? It’s the kids.”

“Exactly.” Shikamaru said. “They’re getting along.”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

“Because Shinki is anti-social and Shikadai doesn’t put effort into anything. Did you really expect to come home to laughing and giggles? No,” he answered for her, before she could. “You expected to come home to two completely silent, sullen children. And possibly the house on fire.”

“I honestly can’t tell if you’re happy about that or not.”

“It’s just . . . weird . . .” Shikamaru frowned. “I didn’t expect it.”

“Are you going inside or not?” Temari sounded exasperated. She reached past him, pushing the door open. Shikamaru followed soundlessly.

Both boys were in the lounge, sprawled in a relaxed manner across the floor, surrounded by pillows. Shinki was propped up against Shikadai’s side, using Shikadai’s ribcage as a pillow, smiling and chatting, while he worked deftly at a circle of fabric. Shikadai had his hand-held game, pushing buttons furiously.

They both fell completely silent when Temari stuck her head into the room. Shikamaru peered around her.

“Hey,” Shikadai said slowly. He lowered his game. “. . . What have I done this time? You’re looking at me weird.”

“Nothing weird,” Temari said.

“You haven’t done anything,” Shikamaru added. “We just wanted to let you know we’re home. Gaara’s still working, but Shinki can head to the hotel any time.”

“Hm,” Shikadai shrugged. “He’s spending the night here.”

“If that’s alright,” Shinki added cautiously.

Shikadai eyed his parents. They were still looking at him oddly. “Are you _sure_ I haven’t done something wrong?”

“Everything’s fine,” Temari assured him. “Shinki can stay.”

“Okay.” Shikadai nodded. His parents continued to stare at him like he’d sprouted a second head. “. . . _What_?”

“Nothing,” Shikamaru said. “Did you guys eat yet?”

“Yeah, we ordered pizza.” Shikadai tried to return his attention to his game. He sighed. “Are you two going to just stare at us all night?”

“Nope,” Temari withdrew her head from the door way. “Carry on as normal.”

“No one in this family has ever been normal,” Shikadai remarked.

Once enough time had passed for Temari and Shikamaru to have moved out of ear shot, Shinki asked in a low voice, “What was that about?”

“They’re weird,” Shikadai shrugged. “And probably expected us to still be glaring at each other.”

“Oh. Okay.” Shinki accepted that. He had heard enough of Kankuro’s stories to believe Shikadai’s descriptor of his mother as ‘weird’. He held up the fabric. “Is this accurate?”

Shikadai glanced up. “The fawns have spots on their backs. But the does look good.”

“How many spikes were on the stag’s antlers?”

“Tines not spikes. And he’s got seven.” Shikadai yawned. “It’s pretty late. Wanna head to bed?”

“Will you be able to sleep if I keep working?” Shinki asked. “I’m used to not sleeping much, and I want to keep working.”

“I would sleep even if you burned the house down,” Shikadai said confidently. He paused. “But don’t burn the house down. We’d probably get in trouble for that.”

“ _Probably_?”

“Well,” Shikadai nudged Shinki until he sat up, then followed suite. “More than probably. Mom’d kill me.”

Shinki stood up, gravely serious. “Then we better not burn the house down.”

“Would you be concerned if she killed me?” Shikadai teased, pausing after standing to stretch leisurely.

“Yes,” Shinki answered. “I would miss you.”

“We’d be together soon enough. She’d probably kill you too.” Shikadai paused. “How good is your sand at defending against wind?”

Shinki blinked at him. “You have wind chakra. Why don’t you find out in the morning?”

“Fighting you would be a drag,” Shikadai replied, leading the way to his bedroom. “And Naras know when to quit.”

Shinki followed him silently. He cleared his throat, “But Suna shinobi don’t.”

 

“I think I like the mint ice cream more than the caramel,” Shinki said the next morning, as they sat on the same bench, looking at the park again. He licked experimentally at his cone. “Yes, the mint is more pleasant.”

“You’re only saying that because your lip is split and the cold makes it feel better,” Shikadai grumbled from behind his own ice cream. He flexed his free hand. “I think I sprained my wrist.”

There was a large plaster across Shinki’s cheek, and a little red line down his bottom lip. He had limped along next to Shikadai to get ice cream, while Shikadai had set a slow pace, nursing bruised ribs.

They had decided to spar after breakfast, a match which had been ended prematurely by Temari stepping in and grabbing each boy by the back of the neck to separate them. Shinki’s iron sand spear had been making a rapid path to the centre of Shikadai’s chest, and Shikadai had been using its shadow to catch Shinki in place and start preparing his Shadow Sewing technique.

“Rather than both of you killing each other,” Temari had said, a boy held up in each hand, “Why don’t you do something less fatal?”

And Shinki, spitting blood and looking sheepish, had suggested ice cream.

“I would have won,” Shinki said suddenly, giving Shikadai a sidelong glance. “I could have killed you.”

“No, you wouldn’t’ve,” Shikadai replied stiffly. “I had three quarters of a second before your attack hit. I only needed half to get you in my shadow, and then I could block your spear. I could have beaten you.”

Shinki frowned. “You’re not that fast.”

Shikadai raised an eyebrow. “I was fast enough.”

“We should rematch sometime. It’s a pity I must leave after lunch today. I’ll come visit you soon.”

“Nah,” Shikadai grinned. “I’ll come to Suna. I need to show you all the ice cream shops anyway.”

Shinki smiled at him. It was such a turnaround from twenty-four hours ago. “Okay. You can visit me.”

“Good.” Shikadai leaned back, head tilted up at the sky. He winced a bit. “I think I sprained my everything.”

 

Shikadai was sprawled melodramatically across his bed that afternoon when Shikamaru knocked on the door. He grumbled a bit, “I’m awake. Sorta.”

“Hey,” his father entered the room. “Your mom says you and Shinki were fighting.”

“Training.”

“How was it?”

“Kinda a drag,” Shikadai yawned. “I would have won.” He sat up, grimacing. “Everything hurts.”

Shikamaru peered at the bed. “What are you lying on?”

“That?” Shikadai looked over his shoulder. He had a neat little olive-green pillowcase on his bed, with a meticulously rendered scene of a herd of deer, in varying threads and stitches. “Shinki made that for me.”

“I thought you didn’t like him?”

“I like him,” Shikadai yawned again, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “We’re cool. Oh, Dad, that reminds me.” He blinked a few times. “I need to go to Suna.”

“What for?”

Shikadai looked at the little pillow. “For ice cream.”

 

 


End file.
